An End in a Beginning
by mercurymoon7490195
Summary: In death, they set the world ablaze. Thiefshipping, Character deaths including suicide. Follows the path set in A Beginning in an End.


_ Marik looked contentedly up at the stars, blinking down through the pine boughs at them. "I wonder-," he murmured to himself._

He went into town with the bag and the rest of their money, and returned with only a pair bottles.

_"What the fuck are you on about?" Bakura mumbled, opening a lazy eye to glare down at the blond. _

He barely paused to look back at the small town that bordered the woods, the sun beginning to set behind the tiny houses. He couldn't be concerned with these people any longer.

_ "Just talking to myself," he said, with the winning smile that he knew Bakura couldn't refuse."Wondering how they're doing, back in Egypt. Ishizu, Odion, their families..you know."_

Footsteps retracing themselves, winding back to their campsite in the middle of the woods. The birds had stopped singing, flying at crunch of dry leaves under heavy boots.

_Bakura shrugged, resting his hands on the head in his lap. "I'm sure they're all cozy in their beds right now," he said,a bit of derision creeping into his voice. "Why, would you rather be with them?"_

Up ahead was the large pine tree, a marker for their campsite. It was old and dry, the grapevines snaking around its branches trying their best to drag it down to earth.

_ Marik slapped his side, just hard enough. "You already know the answer to that," he said, grabbing Bakura's shirt and dragging him closer. He kissed him roughly before letting go, settling into his partner's lap. "Night, Bakura." _

Their stuff was strewn carelessly about the campsite. He no longer cared about hiding the few things they still carried. It would all be gone soon enough.

_The white-haired man pushed him away, just long enough to curl up beside him, brushing the blond's hair away from his face. "Night," he muttered, closing his eyes. He felt Marik scoot closer, and smiled a little. _

Bakura stopped, setting down the two bottles. His gaze was dull as he surveyed the scene, mentally tallying his ever shortening to do list. He crouched by his knapsack, tossing the few baubles away. The only thing he kept was a small candid photo of Marik eating a kebab, something they'd taken at some street fair he could barely remember. He slipped it in his pocket, and set to work gathering more firewood for the pile. Any stick or branch he could find went up against the tree, or into the smaller piles around its base. Anything that would burn. His feet led him away from the site again, until the only branches around them were ones still attached to their trees, and even then that wouldn't be for long.

He stopped for a drink, picking up the first large bottle and raising it to the air before taking a swig, wincing slightly as the vodka burned its way down his throat. He kicked the pine needles ruefully, surveying the campsite. Finally he spoke aloud.

"You just had to make things difficult, didn't you?" His voice was barely audible, his eyes avoiding the tree. "Couldn't have bothered."

He grabbed the second container and began to sprinkle it around them, coating everything with a thick layer of gasoline. "This'll have to do," he said finally, admiring his handiwork. "I hope this is good enough for you."

Marik said nothing. He was still curled up by the pine tree, his eyes closed. Bakura hadn't woken when the young man's breathing stopped; it wasn't until morning that he made his discovery. He looked just as content as he had the night before, as he wished his partner good night for the last time.

"_If you outlive me,_" he had said, years ago. "_Don't let them put me back underground. I don't want to go back, when I can never escape it._"

If the letter Bakura had written the Ishtars had anything to say about it, they wouldn't. They would never find their brother, nor the man who had pulled him away from their protective grasp.

He took another sip of vodka, chuckling darkly to himself. It wasn't as if his technical in-laws weren't going to get anything, he mused as he stared at the sky. All of the funds in Ryo's bank account were left to them and their offspring, as Marik wanted. His few belongings from the tomb were in the mail along with the letter, again as requested. Bakura had laughed in his face when the blond had asked him, in back in the days when he had been certain that the ring would give out long before his partner began to grow old. Having been proven wrong, he obeyed his wishes.

His hand was steady as he took one more drink before scattering some over Marik's body. It splattered across his tattered purple shirt, dripping down his face as Bakura leaned over him, pressing his lips to his cold cheek.

"You couldn't have waited for me to go first," he murmured, his fingers reaching for the box of matches. "So this is the best we have."

Unfalteringly, he stood and struck the first match, setting the first bundle of kindling ablaze. The flames lept up to the tree it surrounded, hungrily eating away at the trail of gasoline. He set another at the other end of the clearing before returning to Marik's side. He took the rest of the bottle and poured it over himself, letting it run through over the ring on his finger. This would be the end. The end of their running, of _his _running...After so long it was strange...but he'd had enough of hiding from death. Over three thousand years from his birth, and his business was completely finished. It was almost comforting.

He leaned in, resting his hand on his partner's."We did it, Marik," he said firmly. "We made the world ours. We made it burn in our names."

With that he struck one last match, letting it burn away at the rest of the book. He flinched as the fire licked at his fingers, finding the alcohol-soaked ring and working away at it. He watched grimly as the ring began to melt, a low frantic cackle slipping from his lips. It grew louder, the last crow of the ancient rage and vengeance that the spirit had embodied for millennia. It slipped into a single scream and then stopped, fading away among the burning trees.

"_Bakura! BAKURA!"_

His eyes shot open at the touch of a bronze hand stroking his hair, calm purple irises watching him awaken.

Bakura regarded him without much surprise. "You waited," he said quietly.

Marik smiled down at him. "As I promised," he said. He lay down beside him, still watching him unsettlingly. "And you did as you promised?"

"Don't be so stupid," Bakura snapped, though the usual edge in his voice was nearly gone. "Would I let them lock you away in a tomb again?"

"I suppose not." Marik's laugh was soft as his face turned to the hazy grey sky, staring up into it. "So that's it then. It's done."

"It would seem that way." Bakura said. He expected the usual soft prickle of unease at the unfamiliar surroundings, but found none. "It's-"

"Different than you expected?" Marik finished, grinning. "I know what you mean." He gave the field over towering grass an upside down glance, studying it. "Still, I don't mind. At least it's _somewhere. _And a somewhere with you, to boot."

Bakura nodded. He sat up, pulling Marik with him. Hands slipped around his back, leaning in for a brief kiss. "It's done," he murmured, pulling back. There was disbelief in his voice, his eyes staring back in wonder.

"It really is," Marik replied. They both got slowly to their feet, looking across the field of long grass that surrounded them. Their hands dropped to their sides, still clasped loosely together. Around them was a comfortable silence, punctured only by a few birds and a light breeze that began picking at their hair.

"So what now?" came the question, finally.

"Anything we want," was the reply. "We're free."

A pair of smiles spread across their faces, each happier than the other had ever seen. "Yes," Bakura said, squeezing his hand. "We are."


End file.
